Ode to a New Year’s resolution

Friends, food, refrigerator pals -- lend me your ears. I have come to bury you, not to praise you. The evil that you do lives after you, on my waistline.

Bob Ellis

Friends, food, refrigerator pals -- lend me your ears. I have come to bury you, not to praise you. The evil that you do lives after you, on my waistline. The good is often interred in my cholesterol!

What I am relating to here is the impassioned speech I gave to my dear old friends on the occasion of their moving out of my life. (Any resemblance to paraphrasing Shakespeare’s "Julius Caesar" is purely intentional.) It is one of the toughest things I ever had to do. Tears welled in my eyes as I fondly bid them each adieu.

“All right. Everybody listen up. I guess you are all wondering why I gathered you here on the kitchen countertop. Yea, all of you, my loyal minions and lifetime companions, you that have unselfishly always been there for me — sadly the time has come for us to say goodbye. Parting is such sweet sorrow.” (The Bard again.)

“I have no choice in the matter, guys. It is out of my hands. My doctor has banned you from my life, and I must heed his counsel. But I insisted, and he agreed, to allow me this final chance to say au revoir. As long as I keep my hands off you during the speech, he cautioned.

“Bologna! What can I say my dear friend? I will miss you terribly. Do you remember our first picnic together at the beach? You were my first sandwich. That one brief fling I had with braunschweiger meant nothing to me. We vowed to be together forever. And now the torrid affair has ended.

“Oh, my beloved ice cream. How will I get through each day without you? You have sustained me since first we met, at the DQ, lo those many years ago. I even made you out of snow when I was a kid! Adios, my sweet one.

“Good grief, peanut butter! Surely not you, too! What’s to become of me if you are not there when I wake up craving a midnight snack? I love you, every brand of you. Go, now, and make others happy. We’ll have our memories.

“Yes, pie, you, too. It’s nearly too much for me to bear. But doctor said ‘especially you’ must go. In your case I petitioned for mercy. Nay, I begged and groveled unashamedly for the doctor to at least let me keep you. But doctor is relentless and unmerciful. He is a stethoscope-wielding sadist. He loves seeing me cry like a little girl.

“Don’t you dare cast that innocent look, cookies. You’re not little Mr. Blameless. You contributed to these extra pounds, so don’t give me that ‘who, me?’ look. Yes, I remember you were the really big star at my third birthday party and I mentioned that to ‘Dr. de Sade,’ hoping he’d cut you a little slack. But the merciless healer said you are out! All of you are history.

“I know the apples and the carrots are in the fridge laughing at you. But I vow on my mother’s spinach salad that they will never take the place of you guys, down deep in my heart. And if you see me pass you by in the grocery store without looking at you, that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you.

“Soon, some young, trim, healthy guy will come along and grab you all off the shelf, take you home, and you will begin a torrid new affair. Eventually, you will all forget about me.

“But I promise you this. I’ll always remember our good times, and I’ll always be thinking about you.

“Especially you, pie.”

Bob Ellis is the Opinion Page Editor of the West Frankfort (Illinois) Daily American. He can be reached at hawk@dailyamericannews.com

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